bluelined silver
by creatoriginsane
Summary: "Dammit jailbait, you love her." Like blue-lined silver, there was truth in her lies. Implied YukioShura.


Blue lined silver

A/N: Uhm, first-ever try at something new since my ideas are just flying everywhere. .

Disclaimer: It's obvious what I own, and I don't own Ao No Exorcist.

Warnings: (As per the usual) OCs, possible OoC-ness, some sexual implications

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><p><em>Her voice was like blue-lined silver.<em>

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><p>No, not <em>silver-lined<em> blue.

_Blue-lined_ silver.

To simply put it into non-poetic words—she had truth in her lies.

Ironic as it may sound, she does. It was a simple strategy to her, a mere way to force people to believe in her, just another tactic for the enemy to go into a self-created form of insanity—eventually.

He decodes these things, her well-strung web of lies and truth, and shoves her failure into her face.

Rarely were there times that she would grimace at the near impossible speed he takes to solve every puzzle she throws at him—her fortress of pride is stronger and taller than that.

And even rarer were the times that she would make things up as she goes along..

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><p>"How are you, jailbait?" She sounded rustic and over-confident, as she usually does.<p>

"Busy," Not even a glance from the embarrassing test papers.

"That's nice, teenage boys should busy themselves before everything else come along; don't you agree, jailbait?"

"Must you always use that pet name on m—?"

The youth, the youth...

'Shura would be damn proud of me.' Cue elegant smirk, batting eyelashes, fist on the hip, and lick on the upper lip.

"Puberty hasn't been good to you, has it jailbait?"

"What has been good to me?" Almost bitter, but one can never ignore the brightness of pink on his face.

"Relax jailbait, how's a friendly spar sound?"

"It's like I need it—"

"I'll even let you pin me on the ground and dominate me."

He blinked, thrice.

She was still as confident as ever.

"Just kidding jailbait," she laughed, "Man, are you young…"

He failed to notice that she was already unsheathing her blade.

"But I like my boys tender and soft." She cracked her neck to the left and to the right.

Before he realized her use of her so-called 'cougar' strategy, she ran towards him with her blade aiming for a strike.

He dodged, jumping backwards; timing the momentum to grab his gun and load it as he landed.

"I forgot, you fight dirty." His lens glinted.

"Demons don't play by the rules, jailbait." She wiped her forehead with a gloved hand before charging at full speed, tip of her blade aimed for his neck.

He spun out of her way and shot two bullets to her left leg. Quick as him, she spun in midair and deflected the bullets with a slash, "Are you intentionally trying to injure me?"

"Have no mercy when it comes to fighting demons." And wow, he was fast; he shot three to her chest.

And all but one were deflected by her sword, they were not the regular silver bullets used to kill, but they were more of a force bullet—to push the enemy away.

Leather-clad back met stone-cold wall, she grunted and managed to cough out before straightening herself.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye; he was standing still. Taking the distance to her advantage, she ran up the wall and onto the ceiling before executing her 'guillotine-strike'. Preparing an iaido-like attack, before jumping off the edge where wall met ceiling—her blade aimed for his head; she screamed.

'Not surprisingly,' she almost stopped in midair—his feet were no longer placed on the ground, but he was above her, gun aimed at her back.

He shot once.

And she was sent rolling until her face met the floor for the sixth time.

She smiled, breathed deeply, and had her eyes search the room for her sword—but there it was, meters away from her.

She rolled onto her back, welcomed by a blank pair of blue.

"Well aren't you a savior, jailbait?" She rolled her eyes and laughed.

"I beat you." It was strict and monotonous.

She raised a brow at his statement, "Uh-huh, technically you still are no better than me. I just felt like giving you a break." She took it as if he was trying to best her.

He stared her down, ignoring the fact that she was bare (save for the daring outfit that was just as scanty as Shura's) if you subtract the black bikini top, black leather shorts, black knee-high boots, red thigh-high socks, yellow belt, and red gloves.

"Stop acting as if you're better than everyone else."

That cracked some of the bricks of her pride.

"Stop making excuses for your failures."

Ouch, he plans to get somewhere with this and she knows where.

"You just can't stand defeat, can you?"

She can't, it's true.

"It's because there's someone who was always better than you, right?"

He is treading dangerous waters now.

"Alright kid, I agree, now help me up then." Before he could take her hand, she grabbed his and pulled him down on her.

"Stop acting like you're older than me, jailbait." Her tone was low and hostile; the last word was a harsh bite to his cheek.

He grunted, "Then stop acting like a kid and answer me!" He nearly shouted in her ear.

Quickly, she had a postulate on why he was acting so out of character; "Your brother." She smirked victoriously in advance, "You are jealous of your brother." The thought made him gasp and pull away, but she gripped the back of head like a python—forcing him to press down on her.

"Hmph, I wouldn't blame you." Her voice was at the edge of his ear, his head right beside hers. "Your hybrid of a brother being loved of all things, leaving you with nothing but yourself. It gets lonely doesn't it, jailbait?" A hand stroked the back of his head and another gripped at the back of his coat.

"It does," it escapes his mouth—but thankfully, it was barely a whisper.

"Now, I wonder—" She pulls him off and crawls over to straddle his chest, "Why confuse that with my relationship with dear Shura-chan?" She leans in and intimidates him; daring him not to let his eyes wander south.

He mumbles incoherency; he was at a loss for words.

She leans back and ponders for a moment; "I have to agree that she and I work well together, as do you and your hybrid brother. Our fighting techniques seem to complement each other well, probably much better than you and your brother's. And if you bother to ask again," Her eyes turn dangerously down to him, "No, I am not in any way envious of her."

She slid off him and stood in her female glory, later offering a hand to help him up; which he accepted graciously.

"In fact, I think you're in love with her." He failed to meet her eyes as he turned a deep shade of red—so she met his in an all-knowing bombardment of thought.

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><p>Sure, he had to agree that Shura was undoubtedly beautiful—much as any other adolescent boy would be turned on by having some scantily-clad woman press themselves onto him—he was far more attracted to Shura than he was to any other woman he'd met.<p>

Seryu, that was her name, Shura's over-confident, "all-knowing" partner; they might have similar fighting styles with the blade, but they were opposites mostly.

Seryu's black hair seemed dead compared to Shura's explosive fireball that always caught his eye.

Her stone-blue eyes seemed dull compared to Shura's bright violet.

And despite of the both of them wearing almost the same get-up, Shura seemed more colorful, more alive. Shura was strong, extremely strong.

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><p>If he could describe her in one word; that would be it—strong.<p>

He stopped her midway in her monologue, "I don't!"

She paused, a devious smirk coming its way on her face, "You don't?"

"She's just a friend to me, that's all!"

"Ah, but you deny it, deep inside you want to be her lover." She emphasized the last word as she closed in on him, "You want to own her, devour her, claim her." Her voice was getting darker and darker by every word.

"I-I don't.." His eyes were now half-lidded, a pink dust darkening on his cheeks, sweat beading against his forehead—

"Prove it, kiss me." It was more of a bored monotone than a challenge to masculinity.

He hesitated for at least ten seconds, he could hear his watch ticking; he bit his lips at the thought, not as if it was his first but—

She licked her lips and gave a frustrated sigh, before pushing them against his.

It was not a kiss, nor was it frenching, nor was it an open-mouth oral fucking (as she sometimes calls it)—it was just her lips pushing onto his. It tasted like sweat and raw skin, nothing felt warm or hot; until she breathed out.

She pushed herself away and smacked him on the face, before she smacked hers.

"Dammit jailbait, you love her." She gave a well-contented smile.

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><p><em>Like blue-lined silver, there's always a truth.<em>

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><p>AN: Oh my god, I suck at trying to make this as good as I can. . A sequel maybe? Read and review please!


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